The Price of Victory
by Keesha
Summary: Captain Picard has recovered from his bout with the Borg, but what about Commander Riker?


The Price of Victory Keesha (Nov 02)  
  
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Star Trek The next Generation are the creations of Paramont and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Dedication: To my editor, Sir CraftsALot, I couldn't do it without you. Thanks.  
  
Comments: keeshaty@att.net  
  
Placement: After the "The Best of Both Worlds" and "Family".  
  
Captain's Log Stardate: 44052.3 Repairs to the Enterprise are complete and all the crewmembers that took shore leave on Earth, including myself, are safely back onboard. It is always bittersweet leaving your home world and those you love, for the vastness of space. Nevertheless, I depart Earth this time having made peace with my family, my life choices, and myself. Counselor Troi was correct when she told me I did not realize the level to which the Borg had affected me and that the only person I was fooling was myself. However, with the help of my brother, I have learnt the wisdom of her words and have broken through those careful barriers that I had erected over the years. I have faced my faults and frailties and discovered that Jean-Luc too, is only human. The lessons I have learned in the past few weeks will not be easily forgotten and in fact, I pray that I never forget them. We all have been through a harrowing time and everyone onboard has been affected in some manner by the tragedy of events that unfolded. The repeated Borg attacks. The destruction of the Federation armada. The loss of friends and family. The near destruction of the Enterprise. This ship and her crew need time to regroup and re- center. Today is an important day for me. I have my certifying physical with Dr. Crusher. I am confident I will be declared fit for duty and I must confess I am quite eager to be back at the helm of the Enterprise. I have been doing light correspondence work from my ready room, but it is sitting in my chair, on my bridge, looking out at space for which I long.  
AlI I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.  
  
Part 1  
  
Picard closed his journal entry and stretched his body, pleased that he no longer felt any twinges as a result of the removal of the implants. Dr Crusher and his brother did miraculous work; one mended his broken body and the other his tortured soul. Anxious to pass the last remaining hurdle to resuming full duty, he briskly exited his cabin and headed for Sickbay. A clean bill of health was all he needed. He was one short step from his beloved Captain's chair.  
  
As he entered Sickbay, he noted that no one was around to mark his arrival. Was he that early? Probably so, such was his eagerness to get back in command of his vessel. There was nothing he could do but patiently try to wait. Spryly, he hopped on the medical table and he tried not to fidget as he waited for the Doctor. Picard was confident she would arrive soon, declare him fit and allow him to go back to the job he loved, being a Starship Captain.  
  
Part 2  
  
"The incident with the Borg has affected him Beverly, more than he either realizes or is willing to admit," Counselor Troi remarked as she toweled off after their morning workout. "He is temperamental, edgy, and impatient and you do not need to be a Betazoid to sense that. His mood is unbalancing the crew. I swear you can feel the tension level rise when the Commander enters the room."  
  
"Yes," Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer concurred reaching for her own towel. "I have noted that myself. I thought you and Will were going to take some shore leave on earth."  
  
"I thought that too, but he decided he could not leave the ship," Troi answered, disappointment coloring her voice.  
  
Beverly silently pondered the relationship between her friend and Will Riker. It was the unrequited love affair of the decade in her opinion. The two of them seemed to be constantly dancing on the edge of a serious relationship yet if asked, she knew they would declare nothing more than friendship for each other. Will and Deanna would be seen, arm-in-arm, at functions and then the next week out on a date with someone else. Yet, in times of trouble, they instinctively turned to each other for comfort and support. As a Doctor, she had witnessed some of the private exchanges between Will and Deanna when one of them had been hurt or injured. In those poignant moments, their love for each other shone like a beacon in the sea of darkness, guiding the lost spirit safely home to its' soul mate. It made Beverly was sad to see the unspoken love Will and Deanna held for each other and yet would not proclaim.  
  
Beverly felt she had grown to understand Deanna fairly well and Bev truly believed her friend loved Will Riker. As for Riker, Beverly watched him mature over the last three years from a flirtatious, brash, young man into a mature, seasoned adult. Not to say the man still did not flirt; flirting was part of his genetic makeup as surely as his hair color. However, secretly, Bev believed Will was ready to settle down, that he regretted letting Deanna go and wanted to get back together. Stubborn as mules, neither one would make the first move so they continued to waltz around the dance floor getting nowhere.  
  
"Have you tried to get Will to talk about what he has gone through over the last few months?" questioned Beverly, coming out of her reverie.  
  
"I have approached him but our conversations are non-productive, to say the least. You know normally, if I concentrate, I can sense his feelings, his moods, even at a distance. But it's funny, right now I could be standing next to him and he appears to me as blank as that wall there. My other senses tell me something is wrong, but as far as using my empathic abilities, he is unconsciously or deliberately blocking me." Deanna sighed as she gave her long dark hair one final rub before tossing her towel in the recycle bin. "I had a Psych professor once who said 'be wary the student that learns too well'. I taught Will to shield his thoughts when we were on Betazoid. It only seemed fair to give him some defense against my mother," she chuckled ruefully. "He was a good student, even picking up the rudiments of mind-to-mind communication. Now I fear, it is coming back to haunt me."  
  
"I thought only telepathic races could do things like that. As far as I know Will's ancestry is 100% human."  
  
"True. However, the bond that Will and I once had was.special; deeper than most I have ever formed, even with another Betazoid. We just 'clicked', if you will. Perhaps that is the reason he was able to learn what he did." She sighed and turned her back on Beverly so the Doctor would not see the tears welling up in her eyes. "It is so frustrating. He is not the Will Riker I know. It is like I have lost my best friend and I don't know why."  
  
"If you want my medical opinion, Will is suffering from physical and mental exhaustion. It has been hell these past few months for him. He has had to push himself to his limits and beyond. I believe his mind and body are simply tired. As CMO, I can remove him from command, force him to take a break, but I don't want to make such a drastic move. I would rather he realize that he needs to do it himself. "  
  
"But Beverly, until Captain Picard is ready to resume command and Will is 100% confident the Captain truly is capable of command, Will won't voluntarily step down," Counselor Troi flatly stated.  
  
"Hmm, I see your point. However, I have an appointment with the Captain at 0800, which," she noted looking at the time piece on the wall, "I am already late for." She stood up, tugged her tunic over her head and patted her red hair into place. "I anticipate certifying the Captain as fit for duty today. "  
  
"So Commander Riker will have to 'step down', if you will, of his own accord."  
  
"Yes, but Deanna, I believe Will needs more than that, he needs to take a break from everything, not just filling in for the Captain. He needs time to refocus and get back on track in his public and private life."  
  
"One step at a time Doctor," the Counselor replied as the two women left the locker room.  
  
Part 3  
  
CMO Beverly Crusher entered Sickbay to find that the Captain, as she suspected, had already arrived. "Sorry I was late. I was talking to Deanna after our workout this morning," she stated as she rounded the medical table to stand in front of him. Folding her arms across her chest, the CMO gave the Captain a visual appraisal. His eyes were clear, his physique trim and the fatigue of the past was gone from his face. "Captain. You are looking particularly vivacious today."  
  
"I am feeling fit as a fiddle and I have you to thank for it," Picard heartily agreed.  
  
Inclining her head ever so slightly, she indicated the compliment was received and acknowledged. She pulled a medical scanning device from her lab coat pocket, clicked it on, and began running it above his body. "Anxious to get back in the saddle?" she teased.  
  
"Indeed. I can hardly wait," he replied cheerfully ignoring her good- natured ribbing.  
  
Checking the final readouts on her scanner, she smiled at her patient. "You have made a remarkable recovery Jean-Luc. The time spent at your brother's suited you well. Sir, you are fit to return to your command."  
  
The Captain started to slide off the table but halted when he felt a light restraining hand on his chest. "However," Beverly continued, "I still want you to take it easy. No leading any away teams for a while."  
  
Picard chuckled. "I am sure my First Officer will share your opinion on that subject."  
  
At the mention of Commander Riker, a frown creased the doctor's features.  
  
Observant, the Captain queried, "Doctor is there something I should be made aware of?  
  
Sighing, she motioned Picard from the exam table towards her office. Once inside, she sat in the chair behind her desk and waved towards the other open seat opposite her.  
  
Leaning forward with her red hair framing her face, she made a steeple with her hands and rested her chin on them. She held that position for a few minutes as she debated where to begin. Finally, laying her forearms on her desktop and leaning forward, she decided to be blunt. "Captain, I do not want to medically remove Commander Riker from duty, but if he does not voluntarily take leave soon, I will be forced to ground him for the good of the crew and for the good of himself."  
  
"I see. And what has brought you to these conclusions?" Picard questioned in an even tone of voice.  
  
Moving off on a momentary sidetrack, the Doctor did not directly answer the question. "Do not get me wrong. Commander Riker did an admirable job in your absence. He firmly took control and led the Enterprise though a very turbulent situation."  
  
"As I know he is perfectly capable of doing," the Captain interjected. "Will is an outstanding officer."  
  
"Yes, he is Captain. But it was a hard time, a hard time for all of us."  
  
"Agreed. You were saying about Commander Riker?"  
  
Beverly took a deep breath. "Commander Riker suffers from a flaw, the same flaw that can be found in his Captain."  
  
Picard cocked his head to one side. "And that flaw would be?" he prompted curiously.  
  
"Knowing when to slow down. when to take a break... when to give yourself a break. Will has been under an inordinate amount of pressure. In order to achieve victory against the Borg, he had to order your death, Jean-Luc, not once but twice. He had to deal with the grief of losing you while trying to hold the Enterprise together. At one point he was within seconds of having to order the annihilation of the Enterprise, the deaths of every man, woman and child onboard. In the end, we 'won', but the price of victory was very high."  
  
Picard sat silently and thought about what Beverly said on a professional and personal level. She was correct. The price of victory had been great. "Your recommendation, Doctor?" he finally asked.  
  
"He needs some downtime. Time to work things through." Beverly sat back in her chair, her eyes mirroring her concern. "Will is not himself. I want him to come in for a complete physical and I think it would be beneficial if he were to talk to Counselor Troi. In addition, I want him off duty for at least a week, shore leave would be preferable."  
  
"Thank you for your recommendations, Doctor," Picard said as he briskly rose from the chair while giving a swift downward tug on his tunic. "I will leave it to you to take care of the first two items on your list. I will see to it that Commander Riker takes leave."  
  
Beverly chuckled as she stood. "I am not sure who has the worse task. Me trying to get Will to willingly submit to a physical or you trying to willingly get him to take leave."  
  
"No one said anything about 'willingly', Doctor," the Captain intoned dryly as he exited the Sickbay.  
  
Part 4  
  
The turbolift doors swished open and Captain Jean-Luc Picard stepped on to his bridge. His entrance, however, was not immediately noted by the bridge crew. The main reason was his staff, covertly, was watching an unfolding drama.  
  
"Have you established communications with the Quartermaster at the Starbase to provide our ETA?" Commander Riker demanded the Ensign staffing the comm station.  
  
"Ahhhh no, I mean, well, not exactly," the flustered Ensign babbled. "I'm not sure."  
  
The tall, dark-haired, First Officer rose from his chair in one swift motion and strode up the ramp to the comm station. His commandeering physical presence only served to rattle the Ensign more. "You are not sure?" he barked, his blue eyes flashing with impatience. "Is there a problem with the equipment?"  
  
Data, who was standing nearby, tried to intervene but a sharp look from the Commander made the android fall back.  
  
"I- I'm n-not sure Sir," the petite Ensign stuttered trying to shrink up against the comm panel.  
  
"Again a 'not sure'. Exactly what are you sure of, Ensign?" Riker growled.  
  
In a voice that was barely above a whisper the Ensign dejectedly replied, "I am having trouble operating the equipment Sir."  
  
"You are having problems operating the equipment?" the Commander repeated incredulously. "You are on my bridge and you are not qualified?"  
  
Ignoring all the warning signs, Data stepped up next to the Ensign and interrupted the Commander.  
  
"Sir, it is not Ensign Halifax's fault. I was away from the comm station when you requested that the Starbase be notified," Data stated in his matter-of-fact tone. "Ensign Halifax is part of the cross- training development program. As she correctly stated, she does not have the skill set required to carry out your order."  
  
Though Data did not imply it, Riker felt like an idiot. Data had briefed him on the cross-training program less than two hours ago. A program that Riker had thought worthwhile. A program that he, Riker, was killing before it even got off the ground.  
  
Data's fingers flew over the console and he announced, "The Starbase's Quartermaster has been informed of our expected arrival time. He will be ready with his crew to offload the supplies."  
  
"Thank you Data. Make sure you explain to Ensign Halifax how you performed those actions," Commander Riker muttered.  
  
"Of course, Sir." Data said in a voice, which conveyed that he could not imagine why he would not share that knowledge.  
  
Commander Riker nodded his head at the Ensign. "Ensign," he said gruffly. He knew he should say something more to the Ensign, to try to put her at ease. She was looking at him as if he was a Cartoginal Wolfhound. Words, however, failed him.  
  
Head bowed, Riker walked away from the comm station towards the turbolift, he contemplated his latest addition in what seemed to be a never-ending series of blunders with the crew. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice that he was on a collision course with his next mistake.  
  
Traveling at a good clip, Commander Riker body slammed into Captain Picard, who had started to move away from the turbolift doors. Stumbling against the railing, the Commander winced as his right side made contact with the polymer. Worf reached out a strong, steadying hand to keep the Captain from being unceremoniously knocked to the deck by his First Officer.  
  
Once again, Will's tired mind could not keep up with his mouth as he blurted out, "What are you doing here!"  
  
Captain Picard gave his tunic a quick tug in the downward direction as he mildly rebuked his First Officer. "I do believe it is customary for the Captain to be on the bridge of his ship Number One."  
  
Will wondered if his cheeks and his shirt were the same shade of red. "Of course Captain. What I meant was, I didn't realize you were. that is that you had been.that you were capable of.on the roster," he finished lamely as he trailed after the Captain to the command chairs.  
  
"I am fine and ready to resume duty," Captain Picard replied in a voice that indicated it was the end of that topic of conversation as far as he was concerned.  
  
"Welcome back Captain," Wesley Crusher chimed in from the Ops console.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Crusher. What is our current course and speed?"  
  
"We are headed for Starbase Alpha 72, presently at warp three. We will arrive in 72 hours," Wesley replied smartly with a quick glance at his console.  
  
"Mr. Data. I use to have an old friend on that Starbase. Would you check the records for a Mr. Qytek," the Captain requested.  
  
Data fingers flew over the keypad surface. "There is no entry for a Mr. Qytek, spelled Q Y T E K. However, there are matches for the phonetically spelled.  
  
Riker tuned Data out as the yellow-eyed android relayed every name that sounded like Qytek. The First Officer glanced over at his Superior and wondered if the Captain really was fit for duty.  
  
'Should I check with Dr. Crusher to make sure she really cleared the Captain for duty? Am I being paranoid? The Borg scared the hell out of me and I was not assimilated as the Captain had been. How does anyone recover so fast from such an event? He wasn't on Earth very long. What if there was still Borg thoughts running around his head?' Unconsciously, Riker started stroking his dark brown beard in agitation. 'It is my duty as First Officer to protect the ship and crew. If the Captain has not fully recovered and I let him take over and he does something to endanger the ship or crew.maybe I should check with the Doctor.but how can I check with the Doctor with him sitting there. That would really be insubordinate and I have already run him over once today.' Will shifted in his chair and winced again. 'Focus. You need to think this thing through Riker. You have not been making the best decisions of late.' Riker's mind wandered down a side path. 'Hell I'm tired. It seems like I can never get to sleep and when I do I wake up from horrifying nightmares of blowing up the ship or the Captain.'  
  
Will looked at the Captain as if to verify that he had not blown up Picard somehow. No, the Captain was still there in one piece.  
  
"Riker,' he chided himself. 'You are not playing with a full deck. If only I was sure that the Captain was really all right, then maybe I could relax a little. What if I am wrong? What if the Captain is not all right and he does something that endangers the ship or crew? I should contact the Doctor. But how to do it discretely? I'd have to leave the bridge, but is that a good idea? What if the Captain does something.?' The Commander's mind, like a hamster on a wheel, started spinning again in an endless circle that lead nowhere.  
  
Doctor Crusher, who had entered the bridge and took up residence in Counselor's Troi's chair, glanced at the Captain. With a little frown, she addressed Commander Riker again. "Commander?"  
  
Riker, inwardly focused, missed the Doctor's second attempt to gain his attention.  
  
Exchanging another look with Picard, the Doctor made her final attempt verbally, to capture the First Officer's attention. Doing a good imitation of the Commander's own style in both volume and tone, she barked, "Commander Riker!"  
  
That got his attention. The Commander's focus snapped back to his present surroundings and he noted that Dr Crusher, who he had been desperately wondering how to contact, was now sitting on the bridge. Had he subconsciously willed her here?  
  
"How did you." Aha! Riker's brain finally stopped his mouth from uttering yet another stupid remark. However, his brain, celebrating its' first victory in squelching asinine comments, missed the next one in the chute. "Did you really certify the Captain fit for duty, Doctor?", he asked in a tone that indicated he thought someone had made a big mistake.  
  
Before Dr. Crusher could answer, Picard firmly ordered, "Doctor Crusher. Commander Riker. In my ready room. Now."  
  
The three senior officers left the main floor of the bridge. As the ready room doors drew shut, the rest of the bridge crew let out a sigh of relief. There are some things for which you did not want to be present.  
  
Part 5  
  
Picard sat at his desk, Beverly perched on the desk's edge and Commander Riker remained standing.  
  
"You have a question, Commander?" Dr. Crusher asked in her best medical voice.  
  
When no answer was forthcoming from the First Officer, the Doctor offered him two possible choices. "Are you questioning whether I certified the Captain for duty; trying to make sure he did not just wander up here on his own to resume command? Or are you questioning my judgment in certifying that he is fit for duty?" she asked calmly.  
  
At this point Riker started questioning if he was certifiable. He felt as if he was standing on the edge of an abyss and looking downward. It was a hell of a fall. However, his sense of duty, which was starting to take on paranoid proportions, aided and abetted by his physical and mental exhaustion, made him plunge onward.  
  
"Doctor," he said in his deep voice, "As the First Officer of this ship, it is my duty to ensure that the ship and her personnel are not endangered by anything or anyone, to include her Captain. I am sorry we have to have this conversation, especially in this manner, but I need to be assured that the Captain is truly fit for duty." Riker wanted to pat himself on the back. It took him a while but he finally uttered an intelligent thought.  
  
Beverly answered evenly, "I examined Captain Picard this morning, Commander. I can find no physical or psychological reason that would keep him from resuming his duties as Captain of this ship."  
  
Riker felt the cliff's edge crumble underneath his feet. He felt like saying 'Oh, well now, doesn't that make me look like a jackass'. Instead, he simply replied, "Thank you Doctor."  
  
"Number One, do you have reason or cause to doubt my ability to serve as Captain of this vessel?"  
  
Riker knew he had no good answer to that inquiry. He turned away from the Captain and stared out at the vastness of space. After a moment, he rubbed a weary hand across eyes. He was tired, very tired. Deep down, he knew that the Captain had to be fit for duty. The Doctor would not certify the Captain if she had the slightest doubt. Riker knew that. In addition, the Captain would not allow himself to resume command of the Enterprise if he did not believe himself fit. Riker knew that too. Everyone in the ready room was being rational it seemed but him. He wanted to crawl back in bed, pull the covers up over his head and pretend this never happened.  
  
Sighing, he turned back to face them both. Drawing himself into parade rest he apologized, "I am sorry for doubting your diagnosis, Doctor and your fitness for duty, Sir." Half-flashing one of his trademark grins he sheepishly added, "I seem to be running afoul of things today."  
  
"As First Officer, Picard responded, "it is your duty to question when circumstances do not seem correct. Do not apologize for doing your duty Number One. I will however, accept your apology for barreling me over on the bridge. That was a bit, undignified," he finished his voice as dry as unbuttered toast.  
  
Continuing Picard said, "We all have been through turbulent times thanks to the Borg. Starfleet has a long road to recovery ahead of it. We shouldn't expect our road to be any less harrowing. Time will heal, but we need to give ourselves the time to mend."  
  
Picard walked over and placed a hand on Riker's left shoulder. He captured his First Officer's eyes, and would not release them. "Will," he said sincerely. "I learned a lot about myself on my visit to my brother's. Things I had buried. Things I had forgotten. Things I chose to forget."  
  
Will wanted desperately to turn away. This was too intense. He could not handle this right now. However, Picard would not let him look away. The force of his gaze held Will as strongly as the Enterprise's tractor beam.  
  
"I learned that I was human, Will," he continued with a little chuckle. Giving his First Officer a light slap on the shoulder, he broke contact and moved a few feet away. "Human, imagine that. The great Captain Picard learned that he too, was human with all the failings and frailties that go with the species. Moses didn't come down from the mountain. He had it knocked out from under him by a simple wine maker."  
  
Commander Riker felt his heart rate increase as the sweat started to drip between his shoulder blades.  
  
'Who the hell is Moses and this wine maker?' he thought. 'Should I know him? Maybe the Captain is crazy. Maybe I'm crazy. Hell, maybe we are all crazy.'  
  
As if he had read the Commander's mind, Captain Picard turned back to face Will and said, "I am not crazy, Number One. Moreover, neither are you. What we are is human and as the good Doctor often has to remind us, not indestructible. Will, I am back. I feel fine. I am ready to and I need to take command of the Enterprise. I realized on Earth she is my chosen path and I am happy. You, Will, you must learn your path too, whether to remain on the Enterprise or to leave for a Captaincy of your own. Whatever path you choose, it must be your own path. And Will, you can count on me to back you whatever your choice. "  
  
The Captain cleared his throat, straightened his back, pulled down his tunic and became all business. "Number One. You will report to Sickbay for a complete physical. You will meet with Counselor Troi and you will take leave. "  
  
Too tired to fight anymore, Riker wearily responded, "Yes Sir."  
  
"Dismissed," the Captain, said as he headed for his replicater.  
  
The Doctor reached out a hand to steer the dazed First Officer from the ready room. At first, she thought the Commander might balk but like a deflated balloon, he seemed to sink into himself and meekly follow. They entered the lift and headed to Sickbay.  
  
In his ready room, the Captain said to the replicater, "I handled that quite well."  
  
"Please rephrase your request," the mechanical voice stated.  
  
"Tea. Earl Grey. Very hot.  
  
Part 6  
  
The Commander and Doctor rode the lift to Sickbay in silence. When they arrived at their floor, the doors opened. Exiting, they walked side by side down the corridor.  
  
"Captain Picard appears to have had an enlightening experience visiting his brother and his family," Beverly remarked. "His brother is a wine maker you know."  
  
Will mutely nodded his head. That explained the wine maker.  
  
Entering Sickbay, she motioned Will to one of the exam tables.  
  
Partially coming out of his funk, Will protested, "Look Doctor, I really am fine."  
  
"Oh," said the Doctor in a tone of voice that said 'and tell me another one, why don't you.'  
  
"I'll admit, I am a little tired, but nothing a good night's rest won't cure. If you want, I'll go to my cabin right now and take a nap," he cajoled, his face flashing his 'don't I look sincere' grin.  
  
"Commander, we are not playing poker and I am not falling for your bluff. On the table. Now," she ordered. She had never been taken in by the Commander's smile. Occasionally, his poker face.  
  
Sighing, he got up on the table.  
  
"Lie back."  
  
"But."  
  
"Back!"  
  
Riker gingerly lay down on the table, trying not to wince.  
  
Doctor Crusher ran the hand scanner over his body while the wall unit did its' monitoring.  
  
"I do not get it. What is with you men? You act as if getting a physical is like some sort of torture. It is not as if we poke and prod you as in the old days. I barely have to lay a hand on my patients," Beverly stated as she looked over the readouts.  
  
Riker muttered something under his breath.  
  
"What?" asked the Doctor. "Oh never mind. Sit up please." She watched intently as Riker struggled to sit up and swing his legs over the table edge without cringing. He was not successful, she noted.  
  
"Well," the First Officer queried still working his bluff. "How am I?"  
  
Doctor Crusher stared at him with her hands folded across her chest. "How are you, Commander? You are physically exhausted. You are mentally exhausted. You should have been in to see me weeks ago and not ignoring the warning signs your body was giving you. Your pulse is high, your blood pressure is raised, and your blood chemistry is out-of-whack," she lectured.  
  
"Out of whack," the Commander asked innocently. "Is that a precise medical term?"  
  
"Will, you abuse your body," she said. "And," she sighed in frustration, "your body seems to tolerate it fairly well. Look, according to my scans there is nothing wrong with you that some rest and some decent food won't heal. Well, almost nothing. Raise your tunic please."  
  
"My tunic?"  
  
"Yes, to about mid-chest I'd say."  
  
With trepidation, he raised his tunic. He knew what he would find there and apparently so did the Doctor. The bruise had gained a few new colors since he had last seen it this morning when he was getting dressed.  
  
"Very nice job you did there, Commander. Playing one of Worf's little games again? Does it hurt?" she asked pressing on it firmly with two fingers.  
  
Riker sucked in his breath and stifled a grunt.  
  
Beverly continued to poke and prod at the area causing the Commander discomfort. "Is this why men do not want to come to the doctor's, Commander? Because we torture them?"  
  
Unable to stand the pain anymore, he gave in, "All right, Doctor. I give. I should have come and seen you this morning about this but I was busy," he ended lamely.  
  
Satisfied it was set, match and game, Beverly instructed, "You can pull your shirt down."  
  
Will complied as he started to slide off the table.  
  
"Whoa, fella. Where are you going?" the Doctor queried.  
  
"You said I was done didn't you?"  
  
"I said you could pull your shirt down. I do not recall saying you were done. You have at least 1 to 2 hours under the regenerator to heal those broken ribs."  
  
"Broken? They are broken," he echoed unbelievingly. "I mean I knew they hurt a little but." Riker sighed. It just was not his day. Or week. Or month. Maybe even year.  
  
"Lie back and get comfortable," she said as she wheeled the regenerator over to the table. After he complied, the Doctor placed the unit over his ribcage and adjusted the setting. "Close your eyes. Relax, Commander. As you are aware, THIS does not hurt."  
  
Riker tentatively closed his eyes.  
  
When the unit was operating correctly, she said, "I'll be back in a bit" and she walked off towards her office.  
  
"I'll still be here," he quipped.  
  
"I know. I turned on the restraints."  
  
Riker's eyes flew open as he tried to lift his arm. It rose easily.  
  
"Gotcha, Commander. However, do not push me or I will activate them. Try to relax, Will," she said kindly as she disappeared from sight.  
  
Once in her office, Doctor Crusher contacted Counselor Troi. "Deanna. If you have a few minutes, could you come see me in my office? It is about Will."  
  
"Of course, Beverly. I have no more sessions scheduled for today. I'll be right down," Deanna promptly replied.  
  
Part 7  
  
Counselor Troi momentarily panicked when she walked into Sickbay and saw Will lying still on the exam table. She quickly reached out her mind to him and discovered he was only sleeping.  
  
Beverly stepped out of her office moving to Troi's side. "Surprised to see him? Come in my office and I'll bring you up to speed."  
  
Beverly relayed the events of the day to Deanna. "I have done as much as I can do. Now it is your turn to step in as a counselor and as his friend."  
  
"Why do you say a counselor and a friend Beverly?"  
  
"Will needs your professional services to help him overcome recent events. However, he also needs you to be his friend right now. After traumatic times, we tend to turn to friends and family to heal, wouldn't you agree, Counselor?" Bev asked.  
  
"I'd say that is a fair statement. Captain Picard's family helped him more than I could," Deanna replied evenly.  
  
"And I believe Commander Riker needs the same. Deanna, you are the closest thing to family Will has onboard. Just be there for him."  
  
"I always am, Beverly. It is just, well, complicated at times."  
  
Part 8  
  
He was standing in front of Captain Picard, a phaser pointed directly at the Captain's chest. He glanced down on the setting to insure it was on maximum. All the green lights in the dual bars were lit. Maximum power. Will knew he'd only have one or two shots at most before the Borg became immune to the phaser again.  
  
Sweat was pouring down his back. He wanted to wipe a hand across his perspiring brow but he couldn't risk the chance of missing something.  
  
Voices cried, 'Don't do it Will,' and he was not clear whether they were in his head or not. Didn't matter, the Borg had to die. The creature in front of him was not Captain Picard despite his outward appearance. It was a creature. A vile creature. Part of a race that killed millions of people and was on its way to obliterate the Earth. Steeling himself, he pressed the trigger.  
  
A blazing red light sought out the Captain's chest and bore through it. The Captain started to buckle at the knees. Will drew a steadying breath and once again fired upon the apparition in front of him. Finally, Captain Picard slid to the deck, dead.  
  
Mission accomplished. With his free hand, Will reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow. Something cold and hard brushed his forehead. Slowly, he lowered his left arm. It was not made of human flesh but rather a piece of Borg equipment! Looking at the rest of his body, he discovered it also consisted of Borg equipment. He was a Borg!  
  
A wave of sickness rose from the pit of his stomach. If he was the Borg then.not wanting to look but knowing it had to be done, Will forced his eyes to examine the body on the deck. Captain Picard, fully human, lay dead as a doornail on the deck, killed by Riker the Borg's phaser. Will knelt down beside the Captain in a futile attempt to see if he was alive.  
  
Alarms were ringing like mad around him. Riker the Borg rose to his feet and glanced around. The dead bodies of all his comrades littered the deck. Worf, Geordi, Wesley, Beverly, Data, Deanna. Nooooooo, Riker screamed. He turned and ran, trying to escape the carnage. But it followed him, in his mind.  
  
He bolted upright on the medical table, his torso slamming into the regenerating unit, flinging it against the wall. Confused and still lost in his nightmare, Will rolled to his side, tumbled off the table and landed hard on his knees on the deck. Heart pounding, he struggled to rise from the floor, batting aside the hands that reached out to grab him.  
  
Alarms rang like mad around him. Using the table for purchase, he managed to haul himself to his feet. With faltering steps, he made his way towards the Sickbay door.  
  
New sets of arms, stronger than the last, locked onto his body. He struggled as he was lifted skyward then dropped on a hard surface. Unable to break free, he started to struggle even harder.  
  
Voices called out his name but he ignored them. They were the voices of dead people. He thrashed frantically in his attempt to escape.  
  
"He is going to hurt himself. Turn the force field on, Sorek," Beverly commanded her technician. "And turn off the damn medical alarms."  
  
The alarms stopped their piercing shriek and a field generated over the table upon which the Commander was thrashing.  
  
"Will. Will. Lay still!" Doctor Crusher commanded as the force field kept lighting up against Riker's struggles. Her command went unheeded.  
  
"Deanna, can you get through to him?" Beverly asked her voice exasperated. The Doctor had administered a sedative, but it was having no effect.  
  
Deanna probed Will's mind. She was bombarded with waves of strong emotion: fear, shame, confusion, and persecution. It made it difficult for her to concentrate.  
  
"He is caught up in a dream I think," she gasped out. 'Will,' she sent mentally. 'Will, wake up. You are having a bad dream. Imzadi, I am here. It is all right."  
  
The Commander momentarily ceased in his struggle against the force field.  
  
"You are getting through, Deanna," Doctor Crusher exclaimed.  
  
"Imzadi, you are safe. Please listen to me," Deanna pleaded. She could feel his mind starting to surrender. "Beverly, drop the force field."  
  
"Are you sure?" the Doctor questioned.  
  
"Please, Beverly."  
  
The Doctor nodded and the technician disengaged the field. Deanna immediately grabbed Riker's hand and held it securely in hers. "I am here, Will."  
  
Will's eyes slowly focused in the present as he gazed up at Counselor Troi. "You are dead," he stated flatly.  
  
"No, no. I am here," she said as she tenderly stroked his cheek.  
  
Will struggled to sit up and Beverly waved the med-tech aside when he started to stop the Commander. Will reached out and drew Deanna to his chest, burying his head in her dark hair. "I was so scared," he whispered.  
  
Doctor Crusher quietly motioned her people to withdraw allowing the Commander and Counselor some privacy. After the room cleared, the Doctor discreetly ran her medical tricorder over Will's body.  
  
With a sigh, Will finally released Deanna's body from his embrace. He ran a weary hand through his hair and then sat quietly on the edge of the bed with his head bowed.  
  
Beverly, satisfied her patient hadn't re-injured himself, snapped the tricorder shut and put it in her coat pocket. She moved in front of Will's bowed head and gently asked, "Want to talk about it?"  
  
Reaching out blindly for Deanna's hand, he tiredly raised his head and looked over the Doctor's left shoulder at the sickbay wall. "It was a nightmare. I have been having them for the last week or so. But it has never been this bad before," he shuddered. Deanna squeezed his hand encouragingly.  
  
With her Doctor's sense, on the money as usual, she asked, "Did your recurring nightmares have anything to do with those broken ribs?"  
  
Releasing Deanna's hand, Will massaged his forehead. "Yes. I fell asleep on the couch in my quarters. I had another nightmare and somehow slammed into the coffee table."  
  
"Well, based on the show you put on here a few minutes ago, I can picture the 'somehow' very clearly," Beverly returned. "Commander you are off-duty, until you hear otherwise from me. I want you to relax, rest, and eat right. Report back in to me in two days."  
  
The Commander did not argue. It actually disturbed Beverly, for the second time in one day, to see him meekly nodding his head in compliance with her commands. This wasn't the Will Riker she knew.  
  
"That sedative I gave you will kick in eventually," the Doctor stated. "Why don't you lie back."  
  
"No, please," he interrupted. "I want to go to my quarters."  
  
Beverly hesitated. She wanted the Commander to stay in Sickbay under observation. However, she knew he would rest better with more tranquility in his own quarters. But she did not want him to be alone. Bev glanced at Deanna making a mute request.  
  
"Will," Deanna asked in a very serene voice. "Why don't you and I go back to your cabin and get something to eat. I know I am starving." Taking his arm, she helped him off the table. She gave a little nod to Beverly, as she guided the silent First Officer out the door.  
  
Beverly watched the receding backs of her two friends. Beverly hoped Deanna could heal what she could not. "Damn the Borg," she swore to no one in particular.  
  
Part 9  
  
When they reached Will's cabin, he robotically let them in. Once the door closed the Commander looked around, not sure what to do.  
  
"Why don't you go take a nice, hot shower while I make us something to eat," Deanna suggested taking the lead.  
  
Nodding his head, Will wandered off towards the bathing compartment.  
  
The Counselor sighed in dismay as she headed over to the replicater. She had a daunting task ahead of her. 'Chocolate,' her mind supplied while she muddled through what to make them for dinner. 'Nice try,' she scolded herself internally. 'After this is over,' she promised herself, 'we'll have something nice and gooey and chocolaty.' "But for now," she said out loud to the replicater, "we'll have two mushroom and cheese omelets, toast, lightly done with blueberry jam, and two glasses of milk."  
  
She set the table but left the food under the replicater to keep warm. Not too much later Will emerged from his sleeping quarters. He had replaced his uniform with a set of gym shorts and a soft, loose, short sleeve shirt in royal blue. His hair, tousled from towel drying, looked sexy. Deanna sighed quietly to herself. Will Riker was a sexy man, but that was not what she was here for and she scolded herself for not being professional.  
  
Taking the food from the replicater, she motioned to Will. "Come, sit down. The food's ready. I thought eggs would be a nice, light choice."  
  
Silently, Will took the indicted place at the table.  
  
"Blueberry jam. I love this stuff," she said taking the small jar and spreading some on her toast. "Well, not as much as chocolate, of course, but it is delicious." She took a bite of her toast, chewed, swallowed and then smiled over at her silent companion. "Did I ever thank you for introducing me to it?" Not waiting for an answer, because she did not really believe she would get one, she went on. "It was during that short layover on Earth. You took me on a quick tour of Maine. I recall the fall foliage was a sight to behold. We were traveling down some back country lane when we came upon a small store, I think you called it a General Store."  
  
Deanna glanced again at her companion and noted he was not eating, but rather relocating food from one area of his plate to another. "Do you remember the store?" she asked as she picked up the crock of blueberry jam and literally thrust it at the Commander, forcing him to take it. As hard as she tried to make eye contact, he avoided it.  
  
"It was rather a quaint place as I recall. Big porch with rockers on it. An old-fashioned wood-burning device inside."  
  
"Pot-bellied stove," Will softly interjected.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"Pot-bellied stove, it is called a pot-bellied stove," he corrected.  
  
"Ok, the pot-bellied stove inside with that stuff he called coffee brewing on it. We could barely choke that coffee down as I recall." Deanna paused hoping Will would join in the remembrance.  
  
When silence pervaded the room, she continued. "Anyway, I do recall that the fresh baked muffins he said his wife had made that morning were delicious, especially the chocolate, chocolate chip ones," she smiled. Will did not return her smile and she noted he had placed the crock of jam back on the table without using it.  
  
Trying to force her tone to remain light, she took another bite of her blueberry jam covered toast before going on. "And up by the area where you paid sat these old-fashioned sealed glass jars. I remember the proprietor saying his wife had 'put the jam' up in the summer with blueberries from his own land. You bought a few jars and the first thing you did when we got back onboard was rush to your cabin, order toast and introduce me to blueberry jam. Then you got a hold of that old man's wife and conned her into giving you the recipe so you could have it programmed into the replicater. The famous Riker smile once again charmed someone of the female persuasion."  
  
Silence. Not even a muscle twitched in his face to indicate he had been listening to her ramble on. No retort to her jibe on his smile.  
  
The silence lingered on. Will gave up all pretense of eating and sat there mutely staring at the tabletop. His hand crept up to his face and he started absent-mindedly stroking his beard.  
  
With an unexpected burst of energy, he shoved himself away from the table, nearly upsetting his chair in his haste. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm not hungry. I need." Will's eyes roamed to his bedroom. "I need to sleep. I'm tired." Will hesitantly moved towards the bedroom.  
  
To Deanna, it seemed the Commander was reluctantly forcing his body to move into the sleeping chamber, despite his claim to want to go to sleep. She could swear in his eyes she saw fear.  
  
Finally, she found herself sitting alone in an empty room without the slightest clue what to do next. She took another large bite of her jam-laden toast. 'Real good,' she chided herself. 'Eat when you get upset. Great way to relieve tension... and gain 20 kilos, Counselor,' she lectured herself.  
  
She rose from the table and started to clear it. What should she do, she wondered as she placed the half-eaten food back on the replicater's surface. Should she go back to her cabin? What if Will had another one of those nightmares? No, Beverly definitely wanted Will under observations and that meant Deanna at the moment. She would curl up on the couch here and be close by if Will needed her.  
  
Deciding that was the best course of action, she placed the last remnants from the meal on the replicater. At the last second, she snatched the jam back and the plate of toast. 'No sense letting it go to waste,' she rationalized to herself knowing her lie was anything but rationale. Her sweet tooth interceded and suggested she order some vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup to go with the jam and have a good old time.  
  
"No," she said aloud as she placed both the toast and jam on the replicater and dialed it away. She would not give in to food, well, at least not yet.  
  
Quietly, she walked over to Will's bookshelf and perused the few paper copies he kept on hand, a hobby he learned from the Captain. Finding one she recalled was enjoyable, she removed it and took it over the couch. Curling up in a comfortable position, she cracked the spine and read the first page. An unnatural silence settled upon the room and Deanna's intuition told her she was in for a long night.  
  
Part 10  
  
"What are you doing Worf?" yelled the Commander.  
  
The bloody blade came down, neatly severing the neck. Taking a few steps to the side Worf repeated the process again. Swing, sever. Swing, sever. About half way down the row of kneeling crewmembers, Worf's assistant handed him a freshly sharpened blade. Worf tested the sharpness of the honed edge before beginning the process again. Swing, sever. Swing, sever.  
  
'Worf, stop!" Riker demanded running forward to wrestle the scythe from the Klingon's hands.  
  
Worf stopped in mid-swing looking puzzled. "Am I doing something wrong?" he asked.  
  
"Wrong? Worf, you are killing all these men," Riker said in disbelief.  
  
"As you ordered, Sir."  
  
"I ordered!"  
  
"Yes, Sir. Your orders were very explicit, Commander. To kill every man, woman and child onboard the Enterprise. Shall I continue?" the Klingon asked raising the blade higher.  
  
"No. Absolutely not," Riker said emphatically.  
  
Worf lowered the blade again. "Then how shall we defeat the Borg, Commander?"  
  
Before he could respond, the room swirled and Will found himself in Sickbay where he noted that a child occupied every single bed. Doctor Crusher was walking to each table giving the occupant an injection.  
  
"Is there some sort of epidemic, Doctor?" Riker questioned.  
  
"Commander, I am following your orders," Doctor Crush replied coldly.  
  
"My orders?" Riker asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"I find this distasteful, Commander. Making me do this is appalling. At least you spared the children from Worf's blade. The children do not feel a thing. They drift off to sleep and never wake up." She moved to the next exam table and injected the hypo into a little girl's neck.  
  
"No!" Riker shouted. "Stop, Beverly."  
  
Beverly hesitated at the victim. "But Commander, I am following your orders. They were very explicit. To kill every man, woman and child onboard the Enterprise. How else will we defeat the Borg?"  
  
Again, before Will could form a response the room whirled and the Commander found himself in transporter room four with Mr. O'Brien. The transporter platform was full of women.  
  
"Energizing," Chief Transport Officer O'Brien, declared as he slid the controls. The platform shimmered and the women disappeared.  
  
'Well, at least some people are getting off the Enterprise safely,' Riker thought.  
  
"Mr. O'Brien. Where are you beaming these women?" asked the Commander, as the next group stepped onto the transport pad.  
  
"Where, Sir? Energize. Why deep space as you ordered," O'Brien stated in his light brogue.  
  
"Deep space?" Riker echoed, sweat pouring down his back.  
  
"Exactly per your instructions. You were quite specific Sir. You said to."  
  
"Kill every man, woman and child onboard the Enterprise," the Commander whispered.  
  
"Right," said O'Brien. "How else will we defeat the Borg?" the Chief stated.  
  
The picture swirled and Riker found himself in his quarters. At least there were no killings going on here. The door chirped. Will was deathly afraid to answer it. It chirped again, persistently.  
  
"Enter," he said with much apprehension.  
  
The door opened and in walked Worf, Dr. Crusher and Data.  
  
"Sir. Everyone onboard is dead per your direction. Here is the complete listing," Data said as he held out a pad to the Commander.  
  
Riker took hold of the device, his hands trembling. As he read each name, the ghost of the person walked through his still opened cabin door, approached his chair and said 'Dead as you ordered Sir.' He tried to make himself stop reading but the names mesmerized him. There were so many of them.  
  
"Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir." "Dead as you ordered, Sir."  
  
"No," cried Will as he threw the pad across the room.  
  
He looked over at the trio standing in his quarters to discover Data's head already lying on the ground and the blade of Worf's knife descending on Beverly's neck. He lunged from his chair to try to stop Worf. In his haste, the Commander tripped over Data's torso and he crashed to the floor. The blade came down on Doctor Crusher's neck with a decisive stroke. The head cleanly separated from the neck and rolled across the deck to rest in front of Riker. The blue, non- blinking eyes fixed their stony stare on him. Dead as you ordered, Sir," the head said. Will buried his face in his hands and moaned.  
  
"I'm sorry, Commander. Did you wish to kill the Doctor?" Worf queried. "I, of course, offer you the honor of killing me. This is a battle so it will be an honorable death."  
  
"No, no, no," sobbed Will.  
  
A chant started low and grew with each chorus. 'Kill every man, woman and child onboard the Enterprise. You killed every man, woman and child onboard the Enterprise.'  
  
He removed his hands from his eyes to cover his ears. However, in doing so he caught sight of the lifeless head of Beverly Crusher.  
  
"No," he moaned again jumping to his feet and running out of the cabin. He tried to bolt down the corridor, away from the chanting, but he couldn't move. The walking dead clogged the hallways. They impeded his process with each one chanting 'you killed every man, woman and child onboard the Enterprise,' at him.  
  
Riker backed-up against the wall and still they came and chanted. He slid down the panel and the ghosts enshrouded him. Screwing his eyes shut as tight as he could, he sunk into the fetal position on the floor and started screaming."  
  
Part 11  
  
Deanna woke with a start, alarmed. It only took a second for her to realize Will was screaming.  
  
"Imzadi," she moaned as she rushed into his sleeping area. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching a pillow to his stomach and trembling violently. The site was so gut wrenching it pierced her heart. She knelt on the floor in front of him and wrapped her hands around his. Though she could not see his face with his head bowed, she knew he was crying. The tracks of his tears stained his pajama top.  
  
They sat in silence like that for a long time, her mere presence was a comfort to him she sensed. Finally, when she felt it was the right moment, she released his hands, stood and took the pillow away from him. Tossing it on the bed, Deanna reclaimed his hands and led him from the bed to the couch in his living area.  
  
Without protest, Will followed her and sat on the couch as she indicated. He wiped his eyes with his hands and then ran them through his beard. His eyes remained locked on the floor.  
  
Deanna opened all her Betazoid sense to her fullest capabilities. She believed this was the moment that was going to make or break the situation. She wanted assurance that she had as much information as half-humanly possible. Focusing on Will, she discovered she could read now him. It was good news. It would help in the unraveling of this mystery. She decided embarrassment was one of the strongest emotions floating in Will's psyche. She decided to deal with that first.  
  
"Tears are healthy. Will. Don't be embarrassed. Besides, I have seen you cry before if you recall."  
  
Recapturing the tiniest bit of his sense of humor he replied, "Yes but only when dealing with your mother."  
  
Deanna chuckled. "She is enough to drive any grown man or woman to tears."  
  
Will raised his eyes briefly to meet Deanna's eyes. Quickly, however, he looked away.  
  
Reaching again, she sensed fear, shame and self-doubt. These emotions were intertwined, so much so that she knew she had to address them as a group.  
  
Before she could say anything though, Will asked, with his voice breaking on the last words, "Deanna, am I going crazy?"  
  
She wanted to fling her arms around him and reassure him; it hurt her to feel him in such emotional agony. However, her professionalism took over and she remained calmly in her chair.  
  
"No Will, you are not going crazy. You are being too hard on yourself." She could tell by his scowl that he did not believe her.  
  
"Will, have you ever stopped to think about the year you have just gone through?"  
  
He looked at her in puzzlement. 'Good', she thought 'I have his attention.'  
  
Leaning back in her chair, Deanna continued. "Think back over your past year. You started a relationship with Yuta, a lovely woman whom you later are forced to kill with your own phaser."  
  
Will shuddered. The pain from the encounter registered in his eyes.  
  
"You were put on trial for murder on the Botonica Four Research Station," the Counselor continued. "If that was not bad enough, they accused you of raping Manua, the deceased's wife."  
  
Will's face changed from sadness to distaste as the memories of the Research Station replayed in his mind.  
  
"Then there are the never-ending personnel issues with one of the highlights being Lt. Barclay's little holodeck fantasies. And," she said with a mischievous little grin, "you do make a cute little merry- man."  
  
The Commander grimaced at her.  
  
"Then there was your relaxing shore leave as a prisoner of the Ferengi. What could be more restful then spending time with my mother, in a jail cell, aboard a Ferengi cruiser?"  
  
"No comment," he wisely answered.  
  
"Of course, that was followed by the ever popular Commander Shelby, who came on board and tried to bulldoze her way through you to the top."  
  
Taking a deep breath, she pushed on. "And then there is the Captain. Will, you take your job as First Officer very seriously, as you should. Part of your duty is to keep the Captain safe and that has not been an easy task. First, terrorists on Rutia Four kidnapped him. A second kidnapping occurred not long after that one and a fake Picard took over. Finally, the Borg."  
  
Deanna stopped speaking and let the silence grow until it filled the room. Finally, she said, "Will, you are only human. "  
  
It startled him to hear her echo what the Captain had said earlier.  
  
Getting up from her chair, she crossed to the couch and sat down next to him. She laid a hand on his arm. "What you need to do, Will Riker, is give yourself a break. Let your mind and body grieve. Lean on a friend for a while instead of trying to go it alone. No man needs to be an island, not even the First Officer of the prestigious Starfleet ship Enterprise."  
  
Will looked deep into her eyes. He saw sincerity, concern and compassion for him. What did he do to deserve her friendship?  
  
Reaching out, he gathered her up in his arms, burying his head in her masses of curls. Still holding her against his chest, he leaned back on the couch and let his mind wander free. He let go of the reins of responsibility, of worry, of duty and simply existed for the moment. His mind, once free of its shackles, in turn, released his body. The tension melted from his muscles like a snowman in the heat of summer.  
  
Deanna lay still, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and listening to the soothing rhythm of his heart. After a period, she realized that he had fallen asleep. Snuggling a bit closer into his torso, she too, let her mind go and drifted into the sea of sleep.  
  
Part 12  
  
It was not a very restful night. Twice during the early hours of the morning, Deanna became aware of a change in the rhythm of Will's breathing. Tapping into the link they once had, she could ascertain that he was starting to have a nightmare. Concentrating, she refocused his mind with soothing thoughts allowing him to drop back into calm sleep. Twice more, the pattern repeated itself. Each time she was barely able to avert the nightmare. She was surprised at the intensity in which his nightmares tried to reestablish themselves and vowed to talk to Beverly about it in the morning. It did not seem right to her.  
  
Will, by instinct, woke up at 0630. He realized that for the first time in a long while he woke up on his own, not in the throes of a nightmare. He was stiff, but then again, who wouldn't be, sleeping in the position he had on the couch. Carefully, he eased out from under Deanna, trying not to wake her. As he rose from the couch, he stretched his muscles. While his body protested slightly, overall he decided it wasn't anything a nice hot shower wouldn't relieve.  
  
He glanced down at the sleeping form, she looked so peaceful and beautiful lying there. Reaching out a tentative hand, he tenderly stroked her hair. She stirred, her dark eyes sleepily opening and focusing on him.  
  
"Sorry, "he apologized hastily removing his hand from her hair. "I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"That's all right, Will. I have appointments this morning for which I need to get ready." She reached up and tucked a few wisps back into her coiffure. "I suspect I need a bit of time to shower and tidy up if I want to look presentable."  
  
Leaning over, he brushed his lips against her cheek. "You always look gorgeous, Counselor. Even when you are snoring."  
  
Rising from the couch, she batted him in the chest. "I do not snore, William T. Riker," she said indignantly.  
  
Will cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned.  
  
"Even if I do," she said with a toss of her head, "a real gentleman would not mention it."  
  
"I never claimed to be a gentleman," he retorted.  
  
Deanna laughed. She loved him when he got in one of his playful moods. However, they still had a lot of work to do so she got serious. "Look Will, we are not done here. We have made progress but I am still concerned about the intensity of your nightmares. They are so," she searched for a word, "vivid. It is as if you are living them, acting them out. I'd like to meet again this afternoon, say around 1400. What do you plan to do in the mean time?"  
  
"Well, my duty shift starts in..." A look from the Counselor stopped him cold. "Yes, that's right I am on 'vacation'. Well then, I guess I will take a nice, long hot shower, grab a bite to eat and maybe work out with one of Worf's exercise programs."  
  
"I do not think that is what Beverly had in mind when she told you to rest. I suggest you take a nice, long hot shower, sit down to a proper breakfast and then find yourself a good book and read it in nice, tranquil setting on the holodeck."  
  
"Sounds positively thrilling," he laughed. Capturing her hand, he said wistfully, "I wish you could join me."  
  
Deanna yearned to stay with him but she had obligations. "I'll tell you what. I will meet you on holodeck four after I finish with my last appointment at 1230. I'll even bring a picnic lunch. We'll conduct our next session on the holodeck. Pick a nice relaxing setting," she said as she reclaimed her hand and headed for the door. "Nothing too cold please. I do not like conducting my sessions wrapped in a blanket with my teeth chattering."  
  
"Why Counselor, that sounds very stimulating to me," he teased.  
  
Laughing, she left the cabin, happy to see a bit of the old Will Riker had surfaced. He was a tease, but always an officer and a gentleman.  
  
Will watched the door close. He felt a sense of loss, or was it longing, at Deanna's departure. A funk seemed to settle over him.  
  
"Get a hold of yourself, Will," he told the air in his cabin, "or they will lock you up."  
  
He forced himself to turn from the door and head for the shower. Two water showers in less than 12 hours. He'd better watch out. He was going to get a visit from the water police.  
  
Riker chuckled to himself, as he got undressed. He thought about how amusing it would be to tell Worf that he had a new duty, to police the amount of water that everyone used and to discipline those offenders who used more than their quota. He stepped into the shower still chuckling over the thought of Worf heading up a team of water police. Will wished, not for the first time, that Worf had a better sense of humor.  
  
'Gee, he thought. 'Let's have even more fun. I'll add Data to the task force as an overseer. Data would take the responsibility seriously and would probably come up with a way to monitor someone's water usage down to a single drop.'  
  
The spray, hot and luxurious, soaked into his stiff muscles. Yes, he'd be the first person 'arrested' by the new water police, he surmised, if he kept taking these long showers.  
  
Letting his imagination run wild, he envisioned his Security Chief having to confront his Commander for using too much water. For Worf, a person who felt bathing was personally affronting, the irony would be delicious. Of course, Data would be there too, standing valiantly at Worf's side reciting Riker's personal water usage statistics down to the milliliter.  
  
Will continued to play his fantasy in his mind as he showered. Finally, he decided he'd better get out or his fantasy might become a reality. Drying off, he dressed in a pair of casual pants and a long sleeve tunic. After towel drying his hair, he slicked it back with his fingers. Hell, he wasn't on duty so who cared how it dried. This was Will on vacation. Will the relaxed. Will the hungry, he realized.  
  
Dropping the towel in the hamper, he headed for the replicater. Rubbing his hands together, he decided what to have. Hot coffee, of course. Nectar of the Gods. Pancakes. no waffles, with blueberries. He wished Deanna were here to share them with him. 'Knock it off, Will,' he scolded himself.  
  
Not quite able to decide what else he wanted, he dialed up a bunch of dishes and carted them over to his tabletop. Sitting down, he grabbed his fork and got ready to dig in.  
  
Fork in mid-air, he paused. Suddenly, all the food in front of him became nauseating. The mere site and smell of it repulsed him. Dropping the fork, he pushed back from the table in disdain. He moved quickly away from the table, running his hand through his hair. What was wrong with him!  
  
Suddenly, his cabin felt stifling and he had the urgent need to vacate it immediately. Leaving all the food on his table, he headed out the door for holodeck four.  
  
He was a man on a mission, not responding to any of those who greeted him along the way. Reaching the holodeck, he keyed in Riker - Maine. A pleasant voice confirmed his choice and soon the doors slid open. Stepping inside, he drew a deep breath as the access doors shut.  
  
He felt the tension start to drain from his body again as he took in his surroundings. Maine, northeast section, in the Arcadia region. It reminded him a bit of his native Alaska. Granite, wind-tossed boulders, pine forests, restless seas. Rugged yet serene. He and Deanna had visited this particular section of Maine during a short vacation. The one where they got the blueberry jam he recalled. Yes, this was a good place to relax he decided and he thought Deanna would be pleased with his choice of locale when she joined him.  
  
He started down the path through the pine forest. The way, littered with needles, emitted a fresh scent as he crushed them under his boots. It was a pleasant hike with a few fallen trees blocking the path, nothing that could not easily be overcome. If he remembered correctly, the path would head into the forest and then cut back to the rocky shoreline to end at an inlet.  
  
With his long-legged stride, it did not take long to reach his destination, the inlet. He surveyed it from his rocky vantage point. The water cut through the stone face of the island, making an inlet that lead to a good-sized cove. The tide was coming in and the water was rushing into the cove at a tremendous rate. Though it was moving fast, it was still clear enough to allow one to peer into its depth. The exposed rock-cliffs lining the inlet displayed earth-tone hued rock stratums. Brave, lone pine trees grew out of impossibly barren crevices. Deep green moss, spongy to the touch, covered the ground.  
  
Will chose a smooth-barked birch tree, well back from the edge, to sit against. The moss offered a soft cushion below and the birch offered dappled shade above. A hint of autumn was in the air and the leaves were at their colorful best. Will closed his eyes to listen to the sounds of the forest, the rustling of the leaves, the lapping of the waves, the chattering of squirrels and the chirping of the birds. It was so peaceful that he unintentionally drifted off to sleep.  
  
Part 13  
  
Deanna's morning breezed by. She barely beat her first patient to her counseling chambers. She moved from appointment to appointment smoothly. Her final session of the day ended promptly at 1200. She worried for a moment that perhaps she rushed but her patient seemed perfectly content and it felt like the right point to break the sitting.  
  
She had a half hour before she was to meet Will on the holodeck. Enough time to run back to her quarters, pack the promised picnic lunch and grab a jacket. Not that she didn't trust Will to pick a warm place, but in the past, she had found his idea of warm and hers differed by at least 20 degrees. A jacket would be a wise precaution.  
  
Closing down her office, she headed for deck 8. She passed pleasantries with the Lieutenant in the turbolift who departed on deck 12. She rode the rest of the way, alone, which left her mind time to wander back to Will's nightmares. They were so extreme. Rarely had she encountered such intensity. He became so involved in them that he actually started to act them out. There was no telling what he might do in his semi-conscious state. He had already hurt himself while in the throes of a nightmare. Was he capable of hurting others, not realizing what he was doing?  
  
Again, the thought crossed her mind that she should talk to Beverly. However, she did not have time to do it now. Later, she promised herself. After Will and I have talked again. Then, maybe I will have a better idea what is truly going on.  
  
Part 14  
  
Pursued, Will found himself running through the forest. He did not know whom he was running from, only that he did not want to be caught. Distracted, he tripped over a rocky outcropping and fell to his knees. Pain flashed before his eyes as he knelt on the rocks, head bowed, gulping in lungful of precious oxygen. The running footsteps of his pursuer drew ever closer forcing him to regain his feet and hurry onward.  
  
After a few more minutes of his futile escape attempt, Will realized he was not going to be able to out distance his opponent. He had to switch tactics, to stand and fight. But with what? He was unarmed.  
  
A pine branch slashed viciously at him as he ran past, whipping backwards with a tremendous force. 'Will, hold branches for those that walk behind you!' he heard his father shout in his mind, one of the many woodsmen commandments his dad had drummed into him. 'A whipping branch could seriously hurt someone,' the lecture always ended.  
  
'Maybe that's it,' he thought, drawing to a halt. If he could find a suitable branch, perhaps he could knock his follower for a loop. It was worth a try since he did not have a better idea and he could not run any longer.  
  
He started scanning for a suitable branch. It needed to be strong yet supple. Long enough to create the required momentum, but not so long that Will could not bend it back. Finally, he located one that was suitable. Ignoring the piercing pine needles that drew trickles of blood on his bare hands, he grasped the bough firmly and pulled it back as far as he could. He tried to still his breathing so he could better hear the approach of his enemy.  
  
The sun moved behind a cloud and darkness settled over the forest. Visibility decreased and Will found himself straining into the gloom. A shadow lumbered into his vision. He waited for the silhouette to move into what he judged to be the optimal location. At the mark, he let go the branch. It whistled like a torpedo as it swung towards its target. The branch caught the stalker mid-torso, flinging the body through the air.  
  
'Score', Will's mind shouted. Couldn't have been a better hit. The figure smashed against the rock and silently slid down the granite outcropping to rest, unmoving, at its' base.  
  
Cautiously, Will advanced on the still form. He was pretty sure his opponent was down, but it paid to be cautious. The sun moved from its hiding location and sent a golden shaft down on his enemy. Something was obscuring his victims face. Hair, he realized. Long, dark.  
  
"Nooooo," he screamed, flinging all caution aside and sprinting to the fallen figure's side. Dropping to his knees, ignoring the pain the maneuver caused, he pushed the hair aside, knowing whose face he would uncover.  
  
Deanna. Blood ran down her forehead from a large gash and her neck joined her torso at an unnatural angle. Even though he knew she was dead, his fingers sought confirmation. No pulse. He'd killed her.  
  
'It can't be so,' his brain denied. 'Maybe if I got her to a medical facility in time they could bring her back.' Scooping her up from the pool of blood forming on the rocks, he struggled to his feet and blindly started running down the path.  
  
Tears coursed down his face, and his breath came in ragged sobs as he raced through the woods. The once gentle path began to slope upwards and become steeper. This wasn't right, his mind screeched. The ground should be flat on the way back to the vehicle. I'm going the wrong way.  
  
He stopped running and turned to retrace his footsteps. However, the way behind him was no better than the way in front of him. It was a jumble of boulders, strewn about in no particular order. Will could not see a pathway through the mess. Upward was the only feasible direction.  
  
Knowing it was not right, but having no other option, Will climbed upward with his burden. He tripped and fell more times than he could count, sometimes sliding back down the rocky slope as the sharp rocks tore at his flesh. Every time he fell, he tried to cradle his precious burden so it would take no harm. Damn his hide, he had to protect Deanna.  
  
The air grew colder as he climbed higher, his breath expelling in ever- expanding clouds of white vapor. The load in his arms grew heavier and stiffer. Time was slipping away.  
  
The trail seemed to flatten momentarily before it disappeared around a sharp bend. Digging down into reserves he did not know he possessed, Will sprinted around the corner. He found himself standing upon a plateau, high atop of a rocky peak. The wind whipped in gale force gusts at him. He fought to remain upright. Deanna's hair started whipping about in the wind, blinding him. Will stumbled, unable to see where he was going.  
  
Crashing to the ground, he lost hold of his precious cargo. The side of his head hit the rocky ground, stunning him. He duly noted that his warm blood was running down the side of his face. Marshalling his spinning senses, he pressed up into a sitting position. Deanna lay a few meters to his right. He crawled over to her and wrapped his body around her in a protective cocoon.  
  
"Riker to Enterprise," he screamed repeatedly into the wind. "Two to beam up." The wind tore his words away and tossed them around like boats on the sea in the face of a hurricane. Repeatedly, Riker shouted his request to the nothingness.  
  
Unexpectedly, he felt the telltale tingle of the transporter beam play on his body. Clutching Deanna's body ever closer to his, they disappeared in a shimmer of light and rematerialized on the transport deck of the Enterprise.  
  
Will lifted his weary head and scanned the occupants of the room. 'Good, Doctor Crusher is here. She'll know how to fix Deanna.' Before he could struggle to his feet to deliver his precious burden, a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and flung him back against the transporter wall. Dazed, he lay there and watched a group of med- techs gently lift Deanna's broken body and place it on a stretcher. Dr. Crusher bent over the figure running her medical scanner up and down her patient's body. Upon completion, she snapped it closed, looked up and shook her head at Captain Picard. Quietly, she pulled the cover up over the corpse.  
  
Hands dragged at his body again, hauling him to his feet like a sack of potatoes.  
  
"What is the meaning of this Number One?' Picard demanded striding up to within inches of his battered and bleeding First Officer. "Why did you kill Counselor Troi?"  
  
To hear someone say the words aloud, threw Will's mind into further shock. Dead, she was dead.  
  
The cold steel eyes of the Captain bore into his skull. "I ask again. Why did you kill her!" the Captain demanded.  
  
"I don't know," the Commander whispered.  
  
"You don't know. I ought to beam you into deep space," Picard growled. "Get him out of my sight. Lock him in the Brigg and we'll dump his sorry carcass at the first Starbase we come to."  
  
Picard turned to leave the room and then without warning rotated. "You are an arrogant bastard and it will be my pleasure to watch them lock you away," the Captain stated menacingly as he left the room.  
  
The security guards lugged him upright as his next accuser stepped up to the platform.  
  
"How could you Will? After all she did for you. After all she sacrificed. To think I saved your sorry hide. I should have let you die," Crusher said jabbing him in the chest with her medical scanner. Having said her piece, she left.  
  
Data was next in line and he stood for a long minute just gazing at the down-beaten man. "I must confess I do not understand your behavior, Commander. I always thought you held a particular fondness for the Counselor. Yet your actions, in killing her, seem to indicate that my supposition was incorrect. I am not sure what a proper response on my part should be so I will do something I saw in a play once." Data pursed his lips and spit. "I believe that gesture conveys disgust on my part on your actions." Having made his point, Data too left the room. That only left Worf.  
  
"You may leave us now," Worf indicated to the two security guards holding Riker.  
  
Silently, they let him go and exited the room. Riker stumbled but managed to remain standing. Turning slightly, he faced Worf.  
  
The look on Worf's face was not something Riker had ever seen in his entire association with the Klingon. Worf raised his massive arm and backhanded the Commander across the face. Riker flew backwards and crashed into the wall. The room started spinning and it was all he could do not to throw up on the floor. A set of boots appeared in his field of vision. Will managed to raise his eyes high enough to meet those that belonged to the set of boots.  
  
Worf scowled down at him and said the thing that hurt him more than any beating. "She loved you."  
  
Riker lowered his spinning head to the floor. Darkness crept into the corners of his vision and he whole-heartedly welcomed the oblivion that accompanied it. He had killed Deanna. He didn't deserve to live.  
  
Part 15  
  
The panel on holodeck four read 'occupied'. She pressed a few buttons to confirm what program was running. Riker - Maine it responded. Deanna smiled; she knew the program. It was one Will had entered after a vacation they had taken. It was the perfect program. Peaceful, relaxing, just what the Doctor ordered.  
  
Deanna pressed the correct sequence that would allow her to access the holodeck. She walked the few meters to the doors and waited for them to open. They drew back, but the scene that met her eyes was not the one she expected. In fact, there was no scene at all, just sterile yellow gridlines, bright against the dark walls. The lone object in the room lay battered and bloodied against the far wall. Commander Riker.  
  
Dropping the picnic basket, she thumped her communicator and shouted, "Medical emergency. Holodeck four."  
  
Beverly's voice immediately responded. "Deanna?"  
  
"It's Will. Please hurry," she begged as she rushed across the deck to Will's side. She knew better than to move him, so after carefully confirming that he was alive, she knelt by his side and gently took his hand trying to convey calm and caring thoughts to him.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity to Deanna, but in actuality was barely minutes, Doctor Crusher and her team arrived. Gently, she motioned Deanna aside so she could begin her examination. Frowning, she completed her initial exam and gave him a hypospray in the arm. Motioning, she had the stretcher team move into position.  
  
"He is stable enough to move." She stepped aside as her team went to work transferring the Commander from the floor to the gurney. Taking one last reading, she nodded to the team to precede her out the doors and towards Sickbay.  
  
Gently, Beverly restrained Deanna from following the stretcher. "What happened?" she asked the Counselor.  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
"How could he receive injuries like those on the holodeck? These programs have a safety feature built into them," Beverly stated emphatically.  
  
Worf, who had also responded to the emergency call, strode over to the panel. "The safety has been disengaged," he looked over at the Doctor, "by Commander Riker's order."  
  
"Why would he do that?" Beverly wondered.  
  
Deanna's and Beverly's eyes locked, each set mirroring the concern of the other. What was going on here?  
  
Part 16  
  
Beverly frowned for the umpteen time. Her result showed nothing conclusive and that did not make sense. Something had to be wrong with the Commander. What was she missing?  
  
"Picard to Doctor Crusher. Would you please meet me in my ready room? I'd like to discuss Commander Riker's condition."  
  
"On my way," she answered the air. "Not," she added to herself, "that I have anything meaningful to report." Taking one last look at her patient, she shook her head again and headed out the door.  
  
When she arrived in the Captain's ready room, she found Deanna and the Captain already in discussion. "Please, join us," he requested, waving her towards the other open chair. "What do you have to report, Doctor?"  
  
"Nothing, Captain. Not a damn thing. Every test I run on Will indicates he is healthy; mentally and physically run down, yes, however, nothing that should be causing the problems he is experiencing."  
  
"You say when he is awake he seems reasonably normal?" Picard asked returning his questioning to Counselor Troi.  
  
"Yes, Captain. I can sense, like the Doctor, he is worn out especially emotionally. His dreams or rather nightmares have me puzzled. They are so intense. It is like he lives them, acts them out. Beverly, you observed this in Sickbay."  
  
"Yes, when he fell asleep on the biobed while I was healing his broken ribs. He was awake, yet not awake and he fought against us as if we were his enemies. It was disturbing to see him so caught up, almost as if he was incapable of waking from the nightmare."  
  
"Yet when he is awake, are his actions normal?" queried Picard.  
  
Beverly turned to Deanna.  
  
"We have not spent a lot of time together, other than the other night after you released him from Sickbay, Doctor, but overall he seems normal enough. He was joking with me this morning, typical Will style. About the only thing that wasn't normal was his appetite. He wasn't hungry."  
  
"These nightmares," the Captain questioned, "what can you tell me about them?"  
  
"They are intense. They are vivid. They seem to be drawing on events that have occurred in the past. As Beverly said, he is awake yet not awake. He moves around in the real world but he is interacting with the environment of his nightmare. It is very difficult to break him free of the nightmares. The other night I was able to detect and deflect the start of some of his nightmares, but it was not easy.  
  
With a thoughtful look on her face, Beverly tapped on her computer pad. "Intense nightmares," she muttered. A few more keystrokes and she looked up, a glint of triumph in her eye. "I think I may have it. I think I know what is wrong with Will. I did not put all the pieces together until now. Skitendal Syndrome. I think he has Skitendal Syndrome. No wonder I never thought of it," Beverly said as she consulted her pad again. "According to the medical database, it typically manifests itself in Ferengi's. There have been very few reported cases of it occurring in humans."  
  
"Will was with the Ferengi when they captured my mother!"  
  
"Exactly. Since it is so rare, it is no wonder it would not show up on the scans I ran. But," she said as she consulted her pad again, "I think I can determine if he has it by running a spectrum of thelta comparison tests. That will pinpoint the disease if I am correct."  
  
"This Skitendal Syndrome, is it curable?" asked the Captain.  
  
"According to the medical database, for Ferengi it is 100% curable." She frowned. "For humans, hmmm, this is odd. The recovery rate is, well, not 100%. Captain I need to research this more."  
  
"Make it so. I will not lose my First Officer to some Ferengi bug."  
  
"Yes Sir," Beverly said as she hurried towards the door, Deanna in tow.  
  
"Amazing," Doctor Crusher mused as she entered the turbolift still looking at her pad.  
  
"It is curable, isn't it, Beverly," Deanna asked in concern as they entered Sickbay.  
  
"Come into my office," Crusher requested. "Computer," she queried after they had sat down. "Tell me about Skitendal Syndrome."  
  
A pleasant, though sterile voice started reciting facts. "Skitendal Syndrome was first identified on the Ferengi home world by Doctor Skitendal who researched and later devised the cure for the condition. Skitendal Syndrome is characterized by intense, often violent nightmares. The patient typically appears run down both physically and mentally. Many patients take on a green tint to their skin tone."  
  
Deanna interrupted the monologue, "I never noticed that Will was green."  
  
"Must be a Ferengi-specific symptom. Computer, continue."  
  
"Patient tends to have a decrease in appetite which can lead to further physical complications. Mood swings and erratic behavior are often noted. As the disease progresses, the patient becomes increasingly agitated. Patients may sink into depression. The nightmares increase in intensity and frequency and the patient will start living out the dreams. It is common for the patient to injure himself/herself or others while in this 'dream-state'. Paranoia delusions are very common, often triggered by events from the waking environment.  
  
"That would explain all the injuries Will received on the holodeck. In some sort of delusional state, he must have released the safety on the holodeck. He made his dreams into reality."  
  
"Computer, how is the disease transmitted?"  
  
"The microbe is found in a plant-based food substance called trewent. Improper preparation of this substance can lead to transmission of the disease through ingestion."  
  
"Could a human contract the microbe in this fashion?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Deanna, did you and Will eat anything onboard the Ferengi cruiser?"  
  
The Counselor thought back to their time as 'guests' of the Ferengi. "Yes, they did offer us food. " Her voice got firmer as her recollection sharpened. "I could not tell you what it was, but there were a few different dishes. You know Will, he has been known to eat Klingon food so what was a few Ferengi dishes to him. Me, I am not so brave and only ate the one thing I thought I could identify."  
  
"Well, our case for Skitendal Syndrome is certainly strengthening. Computer, what is the course of treatment?"  
  
"A series of injections are given to the patient over a period of 72 hours. A follow up of low doses of mieral is also recommended to remove all traces of the microbe from the host. "  
  
"Will this course of treatment work on humans?"  
  
"This treatment has been used on 34 documented cases in humans."  
  
"The success rate?"  
  
"Of the 34 patients, 10 recovered fully, 22 died before treatment was completed and 2 did not respond to the treatment."  
  
Deanna was shocked. "Beverly, those are not comforting odds."  
  
"Computer, elaborate on 22 patients that died."  
  
"In the latter stages of the disease, patients become increasingly delusional. Self-inflicted harm leading to death is common. The 20 patients that died committed acts of violence upon themselves that resulted in death. "  
  
"Suicide," Beverly whispered. "They committed suicide."  
  
"Oh Bev," Deanna whispered in despair  
  
Part 17  
  
Doctor Crusher had explained the reason for the restraints and though he did not like being confined, Will understood the caution. He had tried to convince her to isolate him in one of the quarantine rooms but the Doctor would not hear of it. 'I am not taking any chances,' she had said. 'The statistics are too grim and you can be rather resourceful, Commander. For the next 72 hours, you are a prisoner on this bed. Get used to it.' 'Nice bedside manner,' he had thought.  
  
The first 24 hours had passed quickly. He was never alone it seemed. One of the Doctors was always poking or prodding. He swore that since she had a captive audience, Doctor Crusher was running every test known to humanity on him.  
  
The final task was to heal his ribs again. Apparently, he recracked them during his last nightmare in the holodeck and therein laid his current dilemma; the healing made him itch; always had since way back when he broke his arm as a kid. His side itched now and having his arms and legs restrained made it very difficult to scratch.  
  
"Couldn't you at least free my hands?" the Commander wheedled. "I have a terrible itch."  
  
"Sir, I have my orders from Doctor Crusher to keep the restraints on," the med-tech answered, her tone apologetic.  
  
"I can appreciate you following orders, Ensign. But can you appreciate the fact that my side really itches?" he countered.  
  
She could appreciate what he was saying knowing that the regenerator did cause some patients to feel itchy. However, she also had her orders from the CMO.  
  
Like the good poker player he was, he sensed the weakness in his opponent and he set out to exploit it. "How about a compromise?" he said, throwing a mega-watt grin behind his words.  
  
Even battered from his recent experiences, the Commander's face exuded a certain charm. "How about you release the arm restraints but leave the leg ones on. That way I can scratch my itch but still not be able to get up and leave. Fair?"  
  
The Ensign hesitated. It did seem like a reasonable compromise. "Fair enough, Sir," she responded as she walked across the room, pressed the panel and deactivated the arm restraints.  
  
The restraints released and Riker raised his arm and started scratching his side. "So good, so good," he chanted as he scratched away.  
  
"Hey, not too hard," cautioned the med-tech. If you damage yourself more on my watch, the Doctor will demote me. After all, I am supposed to be healing your wounds, not watching you self-inflict new ones."  
  
Will grinned up at her and decreased the vigorousness of his scratching, slightly.  
  
"I know of a lotion that helps with the itching. Let me go get some from the dispenser. I'll be back in a few minutes," the med-tech said as she headed out of the room. "Behave yourself while I'm gone."  
  
As the Ensign walked towards the supply area, she got a frantic call from one of the other med-techs on duty. "We need help in here." Forgetting about the lotion, the Ensign sprinted into the other room to assist.  
  
'Ahhhh,' Will thought as his itch finally started to abate. After a few more good scratches, it totally ceased.  
  
He lay back on the table, finally able to relax. Peace and quiet. No one poking and prodding and no more itching! He closed his eyes. It felt so good not to itch anymore. The tension drained from his body and he quickly drifted off to sleep.  
  
Part 18  
  
Finally, the lab was empty! It was time to put his escape plan into action. Reaching under his back, Will pulled out the spherical objects he had snatched from a passing medical cart. He wasn't sure what they were really for, but they were ideal for his purposes.  
  
With a grunt, he sat up on the table. He could not move his legs but he had free range of motion with his upper body. Narrowing his eyes, he pinpointed the location on the panel on the wall that he needed. He had carefully watched them activate and deactivate his restraints enough times to know exactly what area of the screen to press. Taking a sphere in his right hand, he took aim and hurled it at the panel. It made a sharp click as it hit, a little to the right of the intended target.  
  
A quick scan of the room showed that apparently no one had heard the noise. Grabbing his next sphere, he tried again. Clink, a little too far to the left. He was down to two spheres.  
  
He took a deep breath and then exhaled. 'Relax,' he told himself. Using a calming technique his weapons instructor showed him, he quietly took aim on his target and let go his projectile. Bingo! The panel light changed from red to green and his legs were free.  
  
Leaping off the table, he stumbled slightly as he hit the floor. Pins and needles shot up his legs. Ignoring the sensation, he moved towards the door. It opened at his approach and he cautiously scanned the corridor. Empty. Good. Now, to find Deanna. She'd help him. She'd keep him safe from THEM.  
  
He sprinted down the hallway to an access tube, one of the series that interconnected the Enterprise's decks. Moving quickly through the pipe, he arrived on deck 8 near Counselor Troi's chamber. Another quick scan of the corridor showed it empty. His luck was holding up so far.  
  
Hurrying the short distance to Deanna's door, he used his access code to override the lock. It was dark in the cabin. He stood by the door for a few seconds letting his eyes adjust. On the bed, he spotted a supine figure, with long hair covering her face and neck. Moving to the bed, he reached out a hand to touch her. His touch caused her head to roll aside in a peculiar manner. Looking closer, he realized Deanna's neck was broken; that she was dead. In horror, he staggered backwards, tripping over one of the chairs in her room.  
  
How could he have forgotten! He had killed her. The THEM that were looking for him were the crew of the Enterprise. They wanted him for the murder of Deanna Troi!  
  
Will stumbled to the door, slammed his fist against the release button and bolted into the hallway.  
  
Part 19  
  
Dazed by sleep, it took a moment for Deanna to realize that someone had touched her and that the person was still in the room. She was about to ask for the lights to be turned on when she heard her unknown assailant trip over a chair and stumble towards the door.  
  
The door opened and the corridor light silhouetted the intruder. "Will?" she asked.  
  
The shadowy figure hesitated, then disappeared down the hallway as the doors shut.  
  
Sitting up in bed Deanna glanced at the clock. 0630. Beverly probably was up by now. Finding her communicator, she tapped it. "Counselor Troi to Doctor Crusher."  
  
"Crusher here, what's up Deanna?"  
  
"Beverly, this is going to sound silly but is Will still in Sickbay? I could have sworn he was just in my room."  
  
"Wait a second."  
  
"Doctor Crusher to Sickbay."  
  
"Sorek here."  
  
"Is Commander Riker still there?" questioned Beverly.  
  
"Let me check.Doctor he's gone!" Sorek answered her voice edged with trepidation.  
  
"Computer, where is Commander Riker," queried Crusher.  
  
"Unable to locate."  
  
'Damn,' she thought. She had taken his communicator off in Sickbay. "Doctor Crusher to Security," she immediately called.  
  
"Go ahead, Doctor," they replied.  
  
"Commander Riker is missing from Sickbay."  
  
A new voice cut in. "Commander Riker is missing, Doctor?" Worf repeated.  
  
"Yes, Worf. We need to find him immediately. Counselor Troi thinks she might have seen him on deck 8 leaving her quarters less than 5 minutes ago. "  
  
"I will get right on it, Doctor."  
  
"And Worf," she added with a slight hesitation, "he should be considered dangerous, to himself and others."  
  
"I understand, Doctor."  
  
Beverly reconnected to Deanna. "Will is missing from Sickbay so he may have been in your cabin. I have contacted Worf and security is initiating a search."  
  
"What if?" Deanna replied her voice filled with dread.  
  
Beverly cut her off. "Worf understands the situation. Don't worry, they will find him quickly," she said trying to reassure the Counselor even though she herself was not reassured. The Commander had only had one injection so far in the course of treatment and he was still having the nightmares. He was loose, on a large ship that he knew like the back of his hand, in an unknown mental state. It was not reassuring.  
  
"I'll be right down to Sickbay, Beverly," Deanna stated grabbing her uniform. At least she could wait with Beverly for news and not have to be alone.  
  
Part 20  
  
Where to go? What to do? His mind raced uncontrollably as he pounded down the corridor. He rounded a corner and pulled up sharp. Footsteps. Hurrying in his direction. That could not be a good sign, he surmised. He had to find a place to hide.  
  
Scanning the doors in his vicinity, he saw Worf's quarters. Worf should still be at his morning exercise. His cabin would be an excellent place to hide. Overriding the door codes as he did earlier, the Commander stepped into the semi-dark cabin.  
  
Catching his breath, he looked about the darkened room. A single beam of light shown down on Worf's wall, illuminating one of his ceremonial dagger. Riker walked over and stared at the blade.  
  
"Will - what the hell are you still doing here?" he heard Captain Picard's voice mock. "If you cannot make the big decisions Commander, make room for someone who can," Commander Shelby taunted. "It is inappropriate for you," Deanna criticized. "Resistance is futile," Locutus stated.  
  
The voices started spinning round in his head "Will - what the hell are you still doing here?" he heard the Captain's voice mock. "If you cannot make the big decisions Commander, make room for someone who can," Commander Shelby taunted. "It is inappropriate for you," Deanna criticized. "Resistance is futile," Locutus stated.  
  
Faster and faster the voice went, blurring into a single thought "What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
Suddenly Will knew what he had to do. There was only one course of action. He reached up and plucked Worf's dagger from the wall.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
The finely honed blade gleamed wickedly. A thumb on the edge quickly proved it was as sharp as it looked. Worf took excellent care of his weapons.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
He moved away from the wall, blade in hand.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
He could slash his wrists or slit his throat, both effective. However, there was a time factor to bleed out. Too much time. He might fail. That could not happen.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
Perhaps it would be better to thrust the blade through the heart. True, they gave Picard a new heart but if he stabbed it into his own heart and then stroked the blade up and down, it should mangle enough vital organs to make repair impossible for anyone. Yes, he decided, that was the best approach.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
He dropped to his knees on the deck, figuring it would be better not to be standing in case he collapsed before his work was completed. Holding the blade with both hands for better torque, he placed the edge against his chest, right over his heart. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the blade into his chest. Blood welled from the shallow incision. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to complete his mission. This time he would not fail.  
  
Part 21  
  
Deanna came across Worf's security team on her way to Sickbay.  
  
"Counselor," Worf asked, sending his teams ahead. "I have a question. Did you see the Commander enter your room?"  
  
"No. I was asleep but I had a feeling as if someone was touching my hair. I woke up and saw someone leaving my quarters in a hurry. There was only the light spilling in from the hallway, but the silhouette looked like the Commander."  
  
"Did he say anything?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And you haven't seen him since?"  
  
"No."  
  
At that point, one of the search teams returned. "No sign of him," they reported.  
  
Worf scowled. This was going to be like looking for a needle in haystack. The Commander knew this ship as well as anyone. If he was hiding and did not want to be found." An idea started to form.  
  
"Let us assume that Commander Riker was in your quarters. How did he get in? Does he have your access code?" Worf queried Deanna.  
  
Deanna was about to answer affirmative when she realized that wasn't correct. Will had known her access code in the past, but she had changed it recently and she did not believe he had the new code yet. "No, I do not think he knew my new code. I changed it last week."  
  
"Then to enter your room, he would have had to use his command override. Computer, for the last 36 hours, give me any location Commander Riker's authorization code was used to override an event.  
  
"1300. Holodeck four. Overrode safety code. 0600. Deck 8. Counselor Troi's quarters. 0620. Deck 8. Lieutenant Worf's quarters. End of list."  
  
"My quarters!" Worf replied in astonishment. Worf motioned for the security team to follow him.  
  
Deanna trailed behind them tapping her communicator. "Beverly, we may have located Commander Riker in Worf's cabin."  
  
"On my way," she replied.  
  
Upon arriving at his closed cabin door, Worf entered his security code.  
  
Doctor Crusher joined the team as the door slid open.  
  
As the Doctor and Counselor started to enter the room, Worf waved them back. "It may not be.safe."  
  
Knowing Worf was right; they retreated and let Worf and his security team precede them.  
  
Part 22  
  
Worf's eyes quickly scanned the room. "Commander, no!" he cried out in horror seeing his friend kneeling on the floor with Worf's ceremonial blade poised at his chest.  
  
Startled, Riker let the blade slide down his chest. It left a shallow gash in its wake.  
  
Worf made to rush the Commander but Riker quickly jumped to his feet. Brandishing the dangerous blade he growled, "No closer."  
  
Worf stopped. In hand-to-hand, the Commander was a formidable opponent. However, given Riker's current condition, Worf was sure he could take him, but it wouldn't be pretty and the risk for injury to both parties was unacceptably high. That only left his phaser.  
  
"Commander, put down the blade," Worf ordered aiming his phaser.  
  
Will dove to one side behind the desk before Worf could get off a shot.  
  
The security team started forward but Worf motioned them back. As security chief, he stored an extra phaser in his room, in the desk that Commander Riker was crouched behind. He did not know if the Commander might discover the phaser.  
  
Much to Worf's chagrin, Counselor Troi entered the room. "Leave," he barked.  
  
Ignoring Worf, Deanna took another step into the room. 'Will," she called out.  
  
'That sounded like Deanna's voice,' thought Will from behind his barricade. 'What kind of trick is this?'  
  
"Will, please come out. It is all right. No one is going to hurt you. We just want to help you. You are sick."  
  
If this was some sort of trick, Will was going to try to play it to his advantage. "If that is you Deanna, send everyone else out of the room. I'll talk to you, alone," he bargained.  
  
Deanna looked at Worf, who shook his head no. Ignoring Worf she countered, "I'll send the security team out."  
  
"Agreed," Riker answered.  
  
Deanna's eyes pleaded. After a moment Worf, grudging motioned his team to depart.  
  
"And what about Worf, standing there with his phaser ready to shoot me the moment I poke my head out?"  
  
"All right Will. Worf, please place your phaser on the tabletop where the Commander can see it."  
  
"Counselor," Worf growled.  
  
"Please, Worf."  
  
With much distrust, Worf complied.  
  
"Will you come out now?"  
  
Slowly, Riker stood up from behind the desk, the blade in his right hand. His left hand remained below the desktop. His hair and his clothes were disheveled and his eyes held an unnatural gleam, like that of a mad man.  
  
Worf made a slight movement. Immediately, Riker's left hand rose, the phaser in it trained on the Klingon's chest. "Do not try anything. As you are aware from the target range, Mr. Worf, I am a formidable shot with either hand."  
  
"Damn," Worf swore. He had been right to be cautious and now the Counselor had put them in a very dangerous position.  
  
Waving the phaser, he motioned the Klingon to sit in the chair. Worf slowly complied.  
  
Keeping the phaser trained on Worf, Riker turned his attention back to Deanna. "I killed you, yet you stand here in front of me. How can this be?"  
  
"Will, you are sick. You killed me in your nightmare, not in reality."  
  
Will's hand wavered and Worf used the moment of indecision to start to rise.  
  
"No," Riker shouted turning and shooting Worf in the leg. Worf crumpled to the ground.  
  
The security team and Doctor Crusher rushed into the room. Will dropped the blade, moved quickly to grab Deanna and pull her in front of him like a shield. Wrapping his arm around her neck, he pointed the phaser at her head.  
  
"Back off," he screamed. "Back off or I'll kill her."  
  
Troi could feel the Commander's body trembling against her. "Do as he says," she commanded. The security team and Doctor left the room. The doors drew closed behind them.  
  
"Will, please. You are hurting me," Deanna pleaded causing the Commander to loosen his grip slightly.  
  
"You are dead. You cannot be here. I saw you. Dead in your bed. How can this be?" His voice conveyed the confusion in his mind.  
  
"I told you. You are sick. There is a microbe making you hallucinate. If you let us take you back to Sickbay Doctor Crusher can make you well."  
  
Will fired at the door panel, disabling it. With the door shut and Worf immobilized, Will felt safe enough to let Deanna go.  
  
As he paced back over to the desk, the voice in his head started again. "Will - what the hell are you still doing here?" he heard the Captain's voice mock. "If you can not make the big decisions, Commander, make room for someone who can," Commander Shelby taunted. "It is inappropriate for you," Deanna criticized. "Resistance is futile," Locutus stated. "Will - what the hell are you still doing here?" "If you can not make the big decisions, Commander, make room for someone who can." "It is inappropriate for you," "Resistance is futile.  
  
Dropping the phaser, he interlocked his hands behind his head, clamped his forearms over his ears and bowed his head. "Stop, make them stop," he demanded in desperation.  
  
Deanna took a few steps forward reaching out to touch his shoulder. "No," he sobbed, spinning and grabbing the abandoned blade.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
"Don't touch me. Stay away from me. You are dead. I killed you. I did. I did. You aren't real. I know what I have to do."  
  
"What the hell are you doing here. make room for someone who can. it is appropriate. your existence is futile."  
  
"Will, no," Deanna, screamed as he made to plunge the blade into his chest.  
  
From floor level, a phaser blast shot forth, catching the Commander in the torso and dropping him to the deck. The blade's trajectory altered as the Commander fell and it merely sliced harmlessly along the rib cage.  
  
Worf tapped his badge. "Doctor Crusher. It is safe to enter."  
  
It took them a few seconds to get the doors open. The medical team split, half going to Worf and the others to Riker.  
  
"I am all right," Worf fussed as the med-tech took his vital statistics. The tech waved over a stretcher. "Doctor, will the Commander be all right?" Worf asked grumbling at the med-tech that tried to get him on the gurney.  
  
Doctor Crusher looked over from where she was examining the prone First Officer. "Yes, Lieutenant. There is nothing here I cannot fix. You did a good job in subduing him. Now, it's been a long day so stop complaining and let them put you on that gurney."  
  
Worf continued to grumble but complied. "Nice bed side manner."  
  
Deanna caught Beverly's eyes. "Will is going to be all right, isn't he?"  
  
"I promise you, Deanna, he is going to be fine."  
  
Part 23  
  
Ten-forward was semi-empty and the officers had no trouble securing a table. They arranged themselves around the table, Deanna taking up the position on Will's right and Beverly to his left. Worf and Data finished out the group. The waiter took their orders and shortly returned with their drinks.  
  
"I have always disliked those little rodents," Will stated raising his glass and taking a sip of his genuine scotch.  
  
"As First Officer of this ship, do you think that is the proper attitude to have towards the Ferengi?" Beverly countered.  
  
Will took another swig and grimaced. "As First Officer of the Enterprise, it is my duty to treat them with courtesy, like any other species. However, that doesn't mean I have to like them. Or their nasty little bugs."  
  
"It was a tactical error on your part, not to immediately confiscate my phaser after I put it down," Worf stated.  
  
Riker grinned and lifted his glass in a salute towards Worf. "Here's to tactical errors."  
  
"You would not have made that mistake if you had not been.ill," Worf went on to defend his superior officer and friend.  
  
Riker smiled fondly at the Klingon. "By the way Worf, that was good shooting on your part. Enough to disable, not enough to kill. I, for one, appreciate that type of marksmanship."  
  
If a Klingon could blush, Worf came close to it. He muttered something into his prune juice, which no one quite caught, and no one dared asked him to repeat.  
  
"Well whatever, I am happy it is all over. It was quite disturbing being held at phaser-point by you, Will," Deanna said stilling a shiver.  
  
"Why, Counselor, I always find your mere presence to be.disturbing," Will flirted. "Phaser or not.  
  
Deanna slapped him on the shoulder and a look of affection passed between the two.  
  
Beverly noted the passing tenderness and wondered if Will and Deanna's relationship had taken another turn. They had been spending a lot of time together as Will recovered. Who knows? Beverly couldn't wait until their next workout together. She'd pump Deanna for all the details.  
  
The Doctor looked around the table as she raised her glass in a toast. "Here's to good health," she said saluting Will. "Good shooting," she commended Worf. "Good relationships," she ribbed Deanna who blushed, "But most of all, to good friends."  
  
"Hear, hear," they all replied.  
  
THE END 


End file.
